


Takeaway

by theoracleatlasvegas



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Asphyxiation, M/M, Public Sex, no actual daddy kink but klaus does call him daddy like. once, so lets pretend it is lol, theres a little bit of sad things, this wont be nearly long enough to be slow burn but it'll take a while to get there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-28
Updated: 2019-04-18
Packaged: 2019-12-25 15:31:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18264197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theoracleatlasvegas/pseuds/theoracleatlasvegas
Summary: 5 times Diego picks Klaus up, & one time Klaus did.Years and years, but Diego seems to always be taking Klaus home.





	1. sixteen

**Author's Note:**

> i havent written fanfiction in a while so i may be a little rusty lol but hope u enjoy

They’re sixteen but Klaus doesn’t want to be. Diego doesn’t care much anymore. Now he’s just holding his breath until he finds a way to make it on his own. He still hates dad, he still feels robbed of something he couldn’t even begin to describe because, well, he never had it, but he’s accepted his fate for the time being.

  
Klaus, on the other hand, is sick of it. Not that he wants to do the ‘make it on his own’ part, because he wouldn’t be able to do half the shit he gets up to without daddy’s money (the fact that Klaus steals it from him is irrelevant). He wants to escape but Diego thinks maybe he doesn’t know where to begin – so he runs away in the small ways he can (reckless and drug-fueled, more an evasion than an actual escape, but small compared to the titanic feat of actually leaving home).

(if they can even call it a home)

He knows it’s not the comfort that keeps Klaus in the house, he knows it’s not any kind of sense of responsibility or commitment, and it sure as fuck isn’t dad. The only two things that are holding him back now are the uncertainty, and maybe, just maybe, Diego. He doesn’t know if that would make him feel better or worse.

It’s around 3:00 or 4:00 AM, on a fucking Tuesday, when Diego’s phone starts ringing. He groans. He palms around the nightstand until he finds the damn thing and squints his eyes at the screen. He doesn’t recognize the number. Though really, the only people he and his siblings ever call are each other (and rarely, dad).

He sits up, alarmed. This has to be bad. He picks up, anxiously. He’s half expecting a bomb threat, or a hostage situation.

“Hello?” says a small voice instead. It’s a girl.

“Can I help you?” He says, trying to keep his cool.

“Uh. You’re Diego, right? Klaus asked me to call you.” _Shit_. “He’s okay right now, I mean, not okay-okay, but he’s not going to die or anything. But—”

He could’ve sworn Klaus was in the next room over. Must’ve gone out through the window again.

“What happened?”

“Nothing, he just… drank too much.” Which doesn’t sound like the truth at all, but he’s not about to grill some girl over the phone about whatever his brother took. She might not even know. “He wants to know if you can pick him up.”

He rubs his eyes. He does have a license. He does know where dad keeps the keys. He also knows dad’s going to fucking maim him if he finds out. He uses his free hand to turn on the bedside lamp.

“What’s the address?”

*

The girl leads him through the house – she’s the only one who seems to be their age. Everyone else looks well over twenty. Some, over thirty. The thick veil of smoke, the smell of wine and vodka and puke, the colorful lights; they all add to Diego’s frenzied state. It takes everything in him to not freak out. He kind of wants to start crying. He cries a lot, to be honest. But he’s become good at keeping it in check. He doesn’t want to show any kind of weakness in that fucking house.  
He rushes past everyone in a daze. Everything is too loud, too bright, it makes him a little dizzy under the panic that’s staring to overflow from his chest.

The girl takes him to the kitchen where Klaus is curled up on the floor, covered with a blanket. It would be almost sweet if he didn’t look so goddamn pale. There’s sweat running down his forehead, and he keeps making little uncomfortable noises, furrowing his brow.

He crunches down.

“Hey, Klaus?” He shakes him softly. “Klaus, you okay?”

Klaus lets out a little laugh. It takes a second for his eyes to flutter open. He looks sleepily at Diego, with an almost-smile, as though he doesn’t have the physical strength to maintain an actual one.

“Diego!” He giggles. Diego sighs in relief. “The floor’s so _nice_.” He nuzzles against the tile. “You should come down here sometime.” He’s slurring, his words stumbling over each other so much that Diego can barely understand him.

Diego sighs. “Wouldn’t you rather come up here?”

“Why do I have to do all the work,” he says, droopily. He turns slowly to the other side and covers his head.

Diego stands up and turns to the girl.

“What’d he take?”

“Just some wine and maybe a little tequila, I’m not sure.”

Diego stares at her questioningly. She looks down to Klaus briefly before stepping closer to him.

“You won’t tell your dad, right?” She asks.

He snorts. “Not if you payed me.”

“Good. I mean, he was kind of freaking out about that before I called you,” which doesn’t sound like Klaus at all. “he just—”

“What else did he take?” He cuts her off.

She frowns. “I’m not sure, he’s been putting something into his wine. Pills.”

Klaus shifts on the floor, groans.

“Fuck, alright.” He’s really lost here. He thinks he’s gonna have to take him to a hospital, because he has no clue of how to handle any of this. The thought of Klaus lying there, tubes going into his arms and maybe his nose or throat – he tries to not think about needles – is enough to have his stomach in a twist. He swallows hard. Mom could probably help, not only to keep Klaus from _dying_ , but also with Diego’s absolute terror.

He bends down and starts pulling him up by the waist. It’s hard to get him standing, and even harder to keep him upright. He’s like a fucking noodle, flopping around, swaying, leaning all his weight on Diego for support.

Diego sits him down at the kitchen table and brings him some water and a couple slices of bread. Klaus doesn't protest, just munches on them silently. Diego stares.

Suddenly, Klaus tries to get up. Diego grabs his arm to steady him.

"Gotta --" He brings his hand to his mouth. "Bathroom. Gonna puke."

 

*

Throwing up seems to help sober him up a little, along with the couple of glasses of water they gave him and the fresh air (the bread didn't help much since it just ended up splattered on the bathroom tile). It's enough that he starts to make a little sense, and with Diego's help he can walk without collapsing to the ground.

He laughs all the way to the car, his voice cracking as he tells stupid joke after stupid joke. He's gone from fainting to really, _really_ cheerful. Diego rolls his eyes. In any other situation he’d be laughing along. At least this time it gives him some reassurance that it’s not as serious as it seemed when Klaus was almost passed out on the floor. 

“Wow. You stole dad’s car?” The look on Klaus’ face is one of absolute admiration as Diego helps him into the passenger seat.

“Borrowed,” he says, glancing nervously at Klaus. He gets in and starts the engine.

Klaus props himself up. “Whoo!” he raises his arms and kicks his legs against the dashboard excitedly. He laughs. “Joyride!”

“This is more of a rescue-ride.”

Klaus waves a hand dismissively. “Whatever. That doesn’t sound nearly as much fun.”

“It’s really not,” at least for him, he thinks bitterly. Klaus seems to be having the time of his life. He seems to be more or less okay at this point, at least. 

“Hey, you know where we should go?”

“Home,” he says, deadpan. He’s not gonna indulge Klaus with this dumbass drunken conversation.

Klaus ignores him. “Taco. Fucking. Bell.”

Diego groans. “Klaus, it’s dick o’clock in the fucking morning. It’s closed. We’re going home.”

“Jeez,” Klaus rolls his eyes. “You," he points a finger at him. Diego bats his hand away, "need to chill out.” He reaches clumsily into his pocket. Diego glances at him from the corner of his eye as he pulls out a little orange bottle of pills.

“Here, this will do the trick,” he winks, offering it to Diego.

Diego turns for a second and examines the bottle in Klaus’ hands. Is that…?

“Vanya’s meds?! Are you serious?!”

He snickers. “They’re good. They get you all scrambled up. Like an egg.” He giggles.

Diego almost snorts at that, but he contains himself. “Yeah, with the alcohol they’re probably frying your brain like one too.”

“What are you berating me for? You’re the one driving a _stolen_ car. We’re both breaking the rules.”

“If dad figures out you’re the one who took her meds—”

“And if he finds out you took the car… same ending. Besides, he’s not gonna know. I literally rolled a joint at the table yesterday and he didn’t even notice. Daddy dearest doesn’t give enough of a shit to keep an eye on us. Face it.”

“I know that, alright. I’m just looking out for you.”

They stay quiet after that. Diego’s more than a little exasperated, and he wants to get back quickly, so much that he misses a couple red lights. Klaus claps.

“What a badass!”

“Ugh. Shut up.”

“Diego and Klaus! Breaking every rule! Saving the world during the day, tearing it down at night!”

He can’t help but chuckle at that. He exhales and shakes his head. “Skipping a red light and drinking yourself into the floor is hardly ‘tearing down’ the world.”

“One step at a time, dear Diego. At least we’re sticking it to dad for now.”

“Except he doesn’t even know it.”

“You should crash this.” He giggles. “See if maybe then he actually _feels_ something. God, I swear he has two moods: disapproving, and disapproving but with a hard-on when he watches Luther training.”

Diego smiles, the tension in his shoulders slowly melting away. They fall into a slightly more comfortable silence that Diego is expecting Klaus to break any second. When he does it’s not what he expected, though.

“Thank you.”

“Huh?”

“For picking me up.” He sounds so sincere. He’s never heard Klaus like this. Then, he pats Diego’s arm. “I owe you a joint, okay? Remind me, though. I don’t think I’ll recall this tomorrow.”

Diego sighs, smile still there. He doesn’t say no, but he won’t remind him either. It’s a nice gesture anyway.

“Hey,” Klaus says, and raises a pill between his fingers into the air as if making a toast. “To being outlaws.”

Diego slaps it right out of his hand.

*

It’s not long before dad finds out about Klaus and the drugs. It’s not a fight, there’s no yelling, but it’s worse. He looks down at Klaus and tells him how disappointing, how weak he is. How small and worthless. He compares him to his siblings, calls him his biggest failure, and finishes off by saying, _”I am not surprised you broke so easily in the mausoleum. Not surprised at all.”_

Diego watches from the sidelines. It’s kind of brutal.

Dad doesn’t kick him out, he still needs his powers after all, but Klaus probably feels like he did. He stomps up the stairs and Diego follows. He stands in the doorway as Klaus puts as much shit as he can into a bag, eyes glassy and breathing heavy like his lungs aren’t big enough, but not quite crying. Yet, at least.

He’s about to walk past Diego, shaken, shaken, shaken, a second away from crumbling, and Diego won’t stop him. He guesses he can’t, either way. He knows Klaus’ first stop will probably be a dealer or a liquor store (who the fuck sells drugs and alcohol to a 16 year old anyway?), and Diego’s so angry and scared about it, but he also knows he’ll never stop if he keeps living under this roof. This house will bury him.

And then, right before the grand finale, he stops and looks at Diego intently. He smiles sadly, and strokes Diego’s cheek with a tenderness he’s never displayed before. He takes a deep breath, and walks down the stairs. Once he’s gone, Diego leans back on the door frame and brings his hand to his cheek. He can’t help it this time: the tears start falling.

*

After that, they start leaving, one by one until there’s just Luther. Diego doesn’t know if they’d all had the courage had Klaus not left first.


	2. twentytwo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter two whoo

He pulls up to the club and gets out of the car. He looks around. The place seems shady as hell and it’s in a really bad neighborhood. Crackhead neighborhood, really. 

There’s a few guys smoking outside and passing around a bottle of whiskey. One of them is older and he’s all leather and chains. Diego looks up at the blinking neon sign at the entrance; it reads “The Cockpit”, and it dawns on him that it’s a gay club. Huh. He’s always sorta known about Klaus, they all probably know on some level, but he’d never gotten an actual confirmation; Klaus doesn’t share much with them since they left. They barely speak beyond the odd phone call once or twice a year. Still, it hurts a little that he didn’t tell Diego. He would’ve told him something similar. (He guesses he could’ve told him anyway, but he’s barely come to terms with it in the last year, and they haven’t talked much during that time).

He quickly spots Klaus in the alleyway next to the club, sitting cross legged on the floor, leaning his back against the wall, his eyes shut. Diego struts towards him. He gets a few whistles from the men but he has no time to feel offended (or flattered).

He kneels down and pats his cheek. He’s asleep, mouth open. “Hey, you alive?”

He opens his eyes and as he looks up at him a smile appears on his face instantly. “Hey!” He slurs. He sounds as hammered as he did on the phone. “Yeah, yep. Super alive. Just dandy.”

He looks from left to right and then at Klaus’ pale (paler than usual) face. “What are you doing out here?”

“These assholes kicked me out.”

“Why?”

He shrugs. “I might’ve stolen a bottle from the bar. Allegedly.” He nods somewhere to his right. There’s an empty vodka bottle on the ground. Did he seriously drink the whole thing on his own?

Diego groans. “What’s going on with you?”

“The usual, screaming ghosts following me around. How ‘bout you, how’ve you been?” He squints a little as a car passes by, like the headlights are painfully bright.

“The usual; pissed off at having to play chauffeur again.” He huffs and looks at the car. “Y’think you can get up?”

“Uh, I don’t know. Things are… spinny. I’m really dizzy.”

“Why don’t we give it a try?”

“I might puke on you,” he says, covering his eyes and throwing his head back. He looks absolutely wrecked, smudged eyeliner all the way down to his cheeks, his curls damp with sweat. His hands are shaking.

“I’ll take my chances,” Diego says. “Here,” he offers his hand to help him up, but Klaus doesn’t even move.

“Klaus.”

“Just gimme a second. God, that shit’s strong.”

That gives Diego pause. “What is?”

“The thing they gave me. Thought it was molly but I’m not so sure now.”

“You don’t even know what you’re high on?”

He chuckles. “Just another Thursday.”

“It’s Sunday.”

“Is it, now? Wow, time sure flies by.”

Diego shakes his head. He grabs Klaus’ elbow and helps him up roughly. He sways and nearly falls face first onto the concrete, but Diego catches him with an arm around his waist.

He more than half-carries him to the car and opens the backdoor for him.

“I know I said I’d take my chances, but _please_ try not to barf.” He pushes Klaus inside softly and goes around the car to get into the driver’s seat.

“there was a glory hole in the bathroom,” Klaus laughs, shifting to lie down on his back.

“Klaus, shut up.” He puts on his seatbelt and starts the car.

“Y’know, when I was in there I thought, ‘this must be what being catholic feels like’.”

Diego frowns, spares a little glance at him through the rearview mirror. Klaus smiles at the confused look.

“Like confession, you know? How you go into a little cubicle and you can’t see the priest’s face and he can’t see yours, and you’re just supposed to _bare yourself_ to him,” he starts laughing again.

Diego exhales. “Absolving someone of their sins is a little different to sucking their dick.”

“Is it, though? In either one you go in because you want to feel relieved, and you do – provided the priest knows how to do his job.”

Diego’s blushing. He feels something between a knot in his throat and heartburn. “So, what, you went in to feel relieved? Don’t you have your fucking drugs for that?”

“Oh, honey,” He coos. It makes Diego flinch. “I was the priest.”

He resists banging on the steering wheel. His hands burn; anger always goes straight to his hands. They itch for release, for punching something or someone until there’s bloody knuckles and sweat and only an aftertaste of his heart clenching.

He doesn’t know why it affects him so much. Klaus is surely used to doing shit like that. Except he does know, in the back of his mind, that though he’d much rather Klaus didn’t do this because of some sort of urge to keep him safe, there’s maybe kind of a little part of him that’s wished in the past that Klaus would do something like that to him. It’s weird, he doesn’t feel as bad or sick or grossed out about the fact that he’s thinking that way about his brother as he probably should. His main reason to keep this hidden is Klaus himself. Maybe Klaus would feel weirded out – though, honestly, it’s highly unlikely. He can be fucking depraved sometimes – but even if he didn’t, it’s not exactly what Diego wants from him. He does want it, but it’s not the _only_ thing. Because there’s always been something unspoken there, even with the distance these past few years, something tense and sweet and Diego doesn’t want to break the spell in case things go sideways. He doesn’t want this to be what breaks them apart for good, though there’s the slight chance that it could bring them closer, infinitely closer the way he’s wished for it since probably his teenage years.

Klaus falls asleep halfway there, between giggles and hiccups. Diego looks at him through the rearview mirror. This is too much, but he can’t help but feel somewhat glad that at least Klaus called him. He’d probably have slept right there on the street otherwise.

*

He thinks that wherever Klaus lives these days must probably a shithole. His place is a shithole, too, but at least he knows for sure that there’s a mattress and some food, and he can keep an eye on Klaus for the time being.

Klaus walks in behind Diego after the door is unlocked. He goes straight to the bed and throws himself on it with a grunt. Diego closes the door behind him. He lets out a tired noise and walks over to him.

He gets Klaus’ shoes off, and helps him out of his coat. Klaus is really out of it, nearly passed out, so Diego gets almost zero cooperation. He doesn’t bother getting him out of his pants, they’re tight as fuck and taking them off seems like a lot of work.

As Diego leans down over him to pull up the covers, Klaus suddenly launches forward and wraps his arms around his neck, tight. His fingers stroke absently at the exposed skin where his shoulder meets his neck. Diego stills, taken aback. He feels butterflies – or frantic wasps – in his stomach.

He brings his lips close to Diego’s ear, and whispers, so secretive that it’s as if there’s someone else in the room and he doesn’t want them to hear.

“You’re the best one in this whole fucking house, you know that?”

Diego can’t move, can’t reciprocate the hug. It’s so unexpected, so unlike them to show affection this way instead of every other way they do – did; he hasn’t seen Klaus in a really long time. He doesn’t know where they stand anymore. Maybe they don’t really stand anywhere. Maybe they’re just stumbling.

“We’re not at the house, remember?” He manages, weakly.

“Right, right,” he says, “still applies.”

He squeezes one last time, and kisses Diego’s cheek soundly before pulling away and falling down onto the bed, his body heavy. Diego doesn’t know where to go, where to hide. He scratches the back of his head.

He grabs a few blankets and lies down on the floor next to the bed. On his side, facing Klaus. He blinks, wondering what just happened. As he tries to go to sleep, the whisper rattles around in his mind, and he can almost still feel Klaus’ arms on his shoulders, his hand stroking his skin.

*

When he wakes up, Klaus is gone. All he’s left behind is the unmade bed and a pack of cigarettes on the nightstand. Diego covers his face in his hands and sighs. He guesses he’ll just have to wait ‘till Klaus needs a ride to see him again.


	3. twenty five

Diego hesitates for a moment. _Deep breaths, deep breaths_. He hasn’t been to a police station since getting kicked out. He grips the steering wheel ‘till his hands are aching. He’s seriously debating whether it’s actually worth it to go in. 

He supposes it’s not, but he has to. Kind of.

He slams the car door and he feels himself almost shaking. He walks up the steps. His heart is in his throat as he approaches the entrance, and probably for all the wrong reasons - he should be worried, or at least pissed at Klaus, but the only thing he can feel at the moment is sheer embarrassment. Like he’s walking into the wrong classroom at school - or what he thinks that must feel like anyway.

He knows most of the cops there. They greet him and look at him with anything but disappointment, but Diego feels like shit either way. Small. He looks around, shoulders hunched like that will make him go unnoticed.

And then he spots Eudora. Of all the fucking precincts Klaus _had_ to choose this one.

She’s rushing by with a cup of coffee. He tries looking down, hoping she won’t see his face.

As expected, it doesn’t work. She takes one look at him and stops in her tracks.

“Diego?” She eyes him up and down curiously. He hasn’t seen any of the people here in a while. Eudora he hasn’t seen since they broke up, two months ago. “What are you doing here?”

He scratches the back of his head.

“Hey. Uh. Just... came by to say hi.”

“Really?” She raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “Alright, hi. Now that that’s out of the way, what’s going on?”

He stays quiet, staring at her.

“Diego.”

“Ugh, give me a break. I’m here to bail out my shithead brother.”

“Oh.” She pauses. “Which one is he?”

“Uh, curly hair. Tall. Probably wearing a skirt.”

She gapes a little “That guy’s your brother? I mean, no offense obviously, just--”

“Trust me, I know.” He vaguely wonders what Klaus even do to get himself locked up (he was rather cryptic on the phone), and if that has more to do with Eudora’s expression than his mere appearance. It’s most likely drug-related anyway. “Listen, uh, could you do me a solid here? For old time’s sake?” He asks, knowing she’ll catch his drift. She shakes her head, but still smiles a little.

She sighs and looks around, before turning to him. “Alright. I mean, you live in a fucking gym. You’re too broke to pay bail, I get it”

“Almost broke,” he corrects her. They stand around for a couple of awkward seconds. Diego clears his throat. “So…”

It’s like she shakes herself awake to the situation, like she barely just realized she’s talking to her ex. About his junkie brother being locked up.

“Yeah, sure, sure. He’s over here.” She motions with her hand for him to follow.

They don’t speak at all as they walk further into the building. He can hear his heartbeat thumping in his ears. It’s not like he has much to say, anyway. He told her most of it when she dumped him. He feels somewhat nostalgic, though, Even if things weren’t the same toward the end there - and the nostalgia quickly starts to transform into something uncomfortable and almost painful.

“ _\-- and I ain’t seen the sunshine since I don’t know when --_ ” A sing song voice echoes throughout the corridor. He looks sideways at Eudora. She looks back at him, questioningly.

“You seem well,” He says, before he can’t stop himself. It’s kind of petty, the way he says it, kind of bitter. Of course, she recognizes that tone.

“Don’t start, Diego.”

“Just saying, you seem pretty well.” His fucking mouth won’t stop. It used to be that he could barely get words out of it; nowadays he can’t keep them from falling. “Not too happy to see me, though.”

“Should I be?”

“ _\-- I’m stuck in Folsom Prison, and time keeps dragging on…_ ”

Diego doesn’t know what to say to that. They stop in front of the cells, the conversation cut short. Klaus is lying on his back on the floor, feet propped up on the wall. Diego imagines him like this in a meadow. Like this, singing, eyes closed, he looks like he belongs there rather than a dirty cell that reeks of piss. It makes him kind of angry.

“Klaus.”

He turns to him and a smile breaks on his face, the same way it happens every single time Diego comes to rescue him from whatever ridiculous situation he’s gotten himself into. Something clenches in his stomach.

“Finally!” He throws his hands up, cheerful. “Knew you’d come through,” he says, and stretches his arms as he sits up. There’s an exasperated little breath out of Diego’s lips.

“C’mon, asshole. Eudora, do you mind?”

“It’s Patch,” she says. Diego guesses that the fact that Klaus is there is just a part of why she does. She reaches into her pocket for the keys. Klaus blows a kiss to the man on the next cell over and he gets a dirty look in return. The guy mutters something under his breath (in Diego’s ears it sounds awfully close to _fuckin’ faggot_ ). Diego wonders briefly if it’s just the tight skirt or if something else happened there. He looks at the man with a scowl until he turns his eyes away.

Eudora opens the lock, and Klaus goes straight to Diego’s side, puts an arm around his shoulders. Diego shakes it off. Eudora looks between them, a little amused.

“Hey, uh. Thanks,” Diego tells her. He ignores the way Klaus raises an eyebrow at him.

“Don’t worry about it,” She says softly as she turns to walk away.

“Hey, Eudora, can we at least talk about --?”

“No.”

And just like that, she’s gone.

“Oooh, do I sense some tension? Old friend from the Academy?”

“Fuck off.” He starts making his way towards the hall. Klaus follows suit. His steps resonate through the corridor. Jesus, how can anyone walk in those heels?

“Touchy subject?” he snickers.

Diego spares one last glance at Eudora as they leave. She doesn’t look back at him. His heart drops.

“She’s cute,” Klaus says casually when they reach the alleyway next to Diego’s car. “However did you fuck it up?” He laughs.

He looks fucking manic, all jittery and sweaty and wide eyed. He’s practically vibrating - coke. God knows what else, but definitely coke.

“God, do you ever shut up?”

“C’mon, talk to me, _little bro_. I’m trying to bond with you here.”

“By asking me how I _fucked up_ my last relationship? Also, we were literally born at the same time.”

“Yeah, but I’m taller. Right now, anyway.” 

Diego doesn’t say anything. Everytime Klaus tries to get on his nerves like this he comes out losing; he’ll get pissed, and maybe yell, and Klaus is gonna be endlessly entertained by his tantrum. He likes to do this, find which buttons to push and see what reaction he can get. He likes to tease, really, in any way he can. Diego figures he’s like this when it comes to sex, too, though that’s not something he particularly wants in his mind.

Klaus continues. “Was it, you know.” He points down “ _bedroom issues_?” he keeps laughing and laughing, and Diego’s trying to keep his cool, but that gets him to stop walking. He straightens up to show off his full height and turns to Klaus, making him step back towards the nearby wall. “Klaus, I’m fucking warning you--”

“...Or did it have something to do with you getting kicked out of the Academy?”

That’s the last straw. Diego pushes him back. Klaus hits his head against the wall, not hard, but still must’ve hurt. He lets out the most beautiful little gasp, but Diego doesn’t let himself linger on it. He presses his forearm against Klaus’ throat to keep him in place. Klaus’ pupils are blown wide, and Diego guesses it’s because of the drugs, but there’s something else there too. Maybe it’s just wishful thinking. 

“Y’think this is fucking funny?” He says, low.

Klaus searches for god knows what on Diego’s face. He doesn’t seem to find it. He licks his lips, like he’s getting ready to strike.

“Oh, not at all. It’s actually kind of sad.” 

Diego presses further before he can stop himself. He feels Klaus swallow hard. He smiles at him, satisfied that he managed to rile him up like this.

When he speaks again, Klaus’ voice is a little hoarse. “What are you gonna do, tough guy? You wanna hit me?”

When Diego doesn’t respond, he lets out a high pitched cackle. Diego presses forward again, growls involuntarily. Their bodies are barely touching beyond Diego’s arm at his neck, but he feels something electric running through them. He’s mad, he really is, but the heat moves from his hands to his chest. It would be so easy, so goddamn easy to close the distance, but it’s not the time, not the place. It’s never the time or the place. They’re both breathing heavy, and Klaus’ smile turns into something else, like he knows something Diego doesn’t.

“I’ve been slapped around enough. Go ahead,” he says. “At least make it _good_.”

He’s not sure what he means by ‘make it good’. He doesn’t want to think about it either. He takes a breath, and finally lets go.

“Some knight in shining armor,” Klaus laughs again, his own hand around his throat. He strokes it almost fondly.

“Yeah, should probably stop being one. You’re an ungrateful shit.”

“Oh, you love it.” Klaus says. “You love a damsel in distress. Hence your whole vigilante shtick.”

Diego can’t help but cringe at that, and the bit of truth there is in it. His anger starts falling away. He’s too tired for it.

“Alright, Cinderella, let’s go.”

“I don’t think I’m Cinderella.”

“You’re right. Dad couldn’t even make you clean your room, let alone scrub floors.”

“That’s not what I mean -- there’s that too, obviously. But also, we had the mean step-parent. But not the privileged step-siblings. Dad treated us all like shit equally.”

It makes Diego briefly think of the rest of the family. God, they’ve grown apart so much. At the time, when they still lived back there, they relied on each other in a way that no one else’s ever been able to support him - support him in the most simple, fundamental way: helping him hold himself up. He always felt like without them his whole _structure_ would collapse, that he would end up a pile of bones on the floor. He still feels like that, sometimes, but his siblings are no longer there. Except Klaus, though that’s usually when he needs a favor.

He realizes he’s lost track of reality for a tiny second there. He just says, “Except Luther.”

“Yeah, I don’t know about that. Dad probably fucked him up the most.”

“I highly doubt that.”

“C’mon, he’s completely brainwashed. He’s never even left the house.”

They stay quiet after that for a second. Diego thinks about Luther. He’d never really felt sorry for the guy, but Klaus is somewhat right.

“We were a bunch of Rapunzels, if anything,” Klaus says.

“Yeah,” Diego finds himself agreeing. “Thank fuck we left. You’re still a shit damsel, though.” He turns and starts making his way to the car.

“How so?”

“I don’t think I ever read a story about a cokehead princess being rescued from jail, for starters.” He makes sure to mention the coke so that Klaus knows Diego realizes what’s up, see if that weighs on his conscience a little bit. It won’t be enough to get him to stop getting high, but maybe it’ll make him think about it at least.

Klaus laughs, and Diego knows it’s at _him_ , but he’s not sure why.

“Oh, Diego, you’re so _sweet_ ,” he tries to stroke Diego’s cheek. He bats his hand away.

“Why? What’s funny?” He goes beet red, feeling suddenly stupid.

“You think I’m here because of the coke. That’s what’s funny.” He shakes his head. “I’m not an amateur, I know how to not get caught.”

“What _are_ you an amateur at, then? Because you clearly got caught doing something.”

“Trust me, I’m not an amateur at that either. It was just bad luck.”

He’s starting to put the pieces together, bit by bit, but he doesn’t want to jump into conclusions. Especially _this_ conclusion. Something hurts in his gut for no apparent reason. Klaus opens the side door of the car. Diego goes around it to sit on the driver’s seat.

“Took you long enough to get here, to _save_ me, though.”

“It was just a couple hours, don’t be a baby.”

“Yeah, well, that couple of hours cost me around a hundred.”

“What, you got a job now?” And he immediately regrets saying that, because the look on Klaus’ face, though it’s not sad or remorseful or anything of the sort, lets him know his guess was right.

“Something like that. Freelance gigs.” He laughs. He stops as soon as he sees the way Diego’s staring at him. Diego looks down, the anger catching up to him again. He feels a vein starting to pop up on his neck.

“You’re seriously doing this now? Turning tricks on some corner?”

“What do you mean ‘now’?” He giggles.

“It’s not funny.”

“Hey, modern feminism says it’s my body and my choice, and Jesus died for my sins. I’m not really doing anything wrong.”

He thinks back to that dumb conversation with Klaus a few years back, about the glory hole. He clenches his jaw. He doesn’t want to know anything else. He just wants things to be quiet until he can drop Klaus off somewhere.

Except he doesn’t really know where. He guesses he’ll have to bring him back to the gym with him. He sighs.

“You’ve been like takeaway since we left, you know?” He says. “I keep having to take you home with me.”

“Uh, I think this time it’s more like delivery. You can drop me off at my boyfriend’s.”

“You have a boyfriend?”

“Alright, dealer with benefits.” He rolls his eyes.

“Ugh, no. Fuck that. I’m taking you to my place.”

Klaus looks at him with a scowl. “Fine.” He says, and digs a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. He brings one to his lips.

“Like hell you’re lighting that thing up in my car,” Diego says, trying to sound dangerous, or at the very least a little intimidating.

“Let me out, then.”

Diego grunts. Klaus smiles wide at him. He has no leverage, and they both know it. Klaus smokes all the way home.

*

As Klaus throws himself on the bed Diego sits next to him and starts pulling his shoes off in silence. They’ll probably have to sleep together. Diego’s all kinds of exhausted and he doesn’t think he can sleep on the floor tonight.

“Nice boiler room,” Klaus says.

“Shut up.”

“I mean it. I don’t even have my own place.”

Diego looks at him, hand hovering over his shoelaces. “What do you mean? Please tell me you’re not on the streets again.”

“No, no, don’t worry. Plenty of dealers with benefits.” Diego looks back down at his shoes, but his hands remain still. The question is there, at his lips, but he’s too scared to ask. He’s not even sure why; the worst that could happen is Klaus refusing - which is the most likely outcome, but he’d much rather have Klaus living here than continuing with whatever bizarre arrangement he has going on right now.

“Maybe you could… move in.”

Klaus laughs. “I don’t think any of them like me that much.”

“I mean with me, dumbass.”

Klaus sits up. “Huh?”

“I mean, we’d have to get another mattress and everything but at least you’ll have a place to stay for sure.” _and you’ll be safe_ he almost adds.

Klaus shrugs. “Sure.”

“What?”

“Sure. Let’s be roomies,” he gives him a small smile. Diego stops breathing for a second, relief flooding over him, taking him under.

They don’t speak about it anymore than that. Diego guesses they can figure it out in the morning. Klaus uses his toothbrush without even asking so he’ll have to go buy one tomorrow, but it’s okay. Everything is okay.

Klaus stands in the doorway of the tiny bathroom and looks at him with something soft, something tender in his eye.

“You got kicked out of the wrong academy,” he says through a mouthful of toothpaste, and Diego guesses it sounded better in his head but he gets the meaning. He chuckles. Klaus grins at him, and then adds, “That way I wouldn’t have spent four hours locked up.”

“You wish. If I’d caught you I’d have you handcuffed so fast your head would spin.”

“Ooh, kinky,” Klaus says, and looks awfully satisfied as Diego goes wide eyed and blushes. He heads back into the bathroom to spit the toothpaste out.

*

And yet again, Klaus is nowhere to be found in the morning. Really should’ve seen it coming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not 100% happy w this. might edit later but im impatient so im posting rn either way hjdsjkf. enjoy


	4. Twentyseven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> with lol (Lots Of Love) to all of u

Klaus is lying on the hospital bed, looking to the side, to the far off window when Diego walks in. He looks melancholic, far away. His eyes blink heavily from time to time, like he’s still a little hazy from whatever happened before. Diego knows this is not the first time. He’s never been here for it, though. Still, he can’t help but think about whatever crisis might’ve led Klaus here. He’s usually a little more careful - and isn't that rich. Careful with cocaine and heroin and those stupid pills. But he is, at least enough not to get into this situation too often (meaning careful enough to not be dead at this point. Although that might just be sheer luck). 

He clears his throat from the doorway.

Klaus’ turns to face him and immediately changes his whole demeanor to chipper and easy and cool. “Hey! Didn’t think you’d come,” but it doesn’t sound accusing or disappointed, just honestly surprised.

“Why?” Diego makes his way to the chair next to the bed and scoots it closer to Klaus before sitting down.

“Dunno. Fucked up, I guess.”

“Yeah, that you did. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m great! Those electroshock things really got me going. I can never remember their name, though,” and Diego can’t be sure if by ‘got me going’ he means they woke him up or that they turned him on. Klaus rubs his eyes. “Just wish the paramedic had been more diligent.”

“What do you mean?”

“He could’ve given me mouth to mouth, just to be sure. He was rather handsome.”

Diego chuckles a little. Klaus sighs and lets his head loll back to the side, his eyes closed and looking more peaceful this time.

“Since when am I your emergency contact, anyway?” Diego asks.

“Oh, who can remember? Don’t flatter yourself, though, yours is the only number I could come up with at the time, whenever that was.”

It does flatter him, that Klaus _knows_ his number. He suspects there was more to it than some unintentional slip - he doubts Klaus even has anyone else he could call in this situation.

“Yeah, sure. I won’t let it get to my head or anything,” he says. Then: “I’m sure Luther or Dad’s number is way harder to remember. All those numbers.”

Klaus narrows his eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I think you didn’t know who else to turn to.”

“Hey, screw you. I’ve got plenty of people around.”

“Yeah, I’m sure your druggie friends would just come running.” He shakes his head, and realizes as Klaus stays quiet for a second that it must’ve sounded insensitive as shit. It was probably the wrong thing to say.

“I’m one too, you know?” And, yep, it was the worst thing to say. “A _druggie_.”

Diego looks down at his hands. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that,” he says, but just has to add: “Maybe it’s time you changed that, though, don’t you think?”

“Nah. I’ve made my peace with it.”

“Really? Is that why I’m picking you up from the hospital?”

“That is _exactly_ why you’re picking me up from the hospital.”

There's a pause. Diego looks him in the eye, and Klaus stares back. “you know I would do anything to help you, right?” _anything for you in general_.

Klaus rolls his eyes, but he does it almost fondly. “Yeah, I know.”

Diego brings his hand up, and before he realizes what he’s doing, he’s stroking Klaus’ cheek with the back of his hand. Klaus doesn’t pull away, but doesn’t melt into it either like Diego wishes he would. And so because Klaus doesn’t pull away, Diego does. He clears his throat.

“I’m gonna go talk to a nurse, see if we can get you out of here.”

Klaus nods, and wiggles his body to find a more comfortable position. His eyelids fall, and he breathes out. Diego lingers on the doorway for a moment, watching the subtle rise and fall of Klaus’ chest as a way to remind himself that he’s okay and still breathing.

*

Klaus is more than delighted to leave in a wheelchair. He keeps insisting that they should steal it, just casually walk (roll) out of the hospital with it and take it home.

“What for?” Diego furrows his brow.

“They’re damn expensive, these things. We take it and sell it on Craigslist.” Klaus says. “The perfect crime.”

“Hm, yeah, and with the money you can buy more of whatever you’re shoving into your body these days so you get to come back and steal another wheelchair.”

“Hey, it’s a self-sustaining economy,” he grins, and Diego can’t help but breathe out a little laugh. 

He pushes the wheelchair until they reach the entrance and tries to help Klaus stand up, but he gets fussy and says he can do it on his own, that he’s _fine_ , really really fine. They get into the car in silence.

“I still haven’t heard a ‘congratulations’,” Klaus says as Diego turns the keys.

“Is it your birthday or something?”

“My birthday’s the same as yours,” Klaus rolls his eyes. “Haven’t you heard?” he asks, leaning back in his seat. “I’m three months sober today.”

“You’re not three months sober. You _just_ OD’d.”

“I’ve got a chip that says otherwise,” he smiles.

Diego sighs. “Were you _celebrating_ your two months sober?” he asks. It’s partly a guilt trip, which he does feel a little bad about, but also he knows that’s not what happened, and he figures this is the best way to pry the truth out of him.

Klaus’ lips turn into a straight line, merely for a second. Then he’s smiling again. “Well, it _did_ call for celebration. Also, it’s three months.”

He leaves it at that, so Diego guesses that’s all he’s gonna get out of him.

Klaus pulls out a cigarette from the pocket of his jacket. How is he not sick of putting shit in his body right after an overdose?

“Really?” Diego raises an eyebrow. “Are you gonna do this every single time?”

Klaus smirks at him. Diego groans.

*

As usual, Diego drives them back to his place. Klaus had been staying at the rehab center, and Diego doesn’t feel good just _dumping_ him back there. He wishes he could talk Klaus into staying for a little while, at least a couple of days.

Klaus sits on the edge of the mattress while Diego gets them some fruit (probably not ideal for Klaus, but it’s all he’s got right now).  
Diego sits next to him, and watches from the corner of his eye as Klaus bites down on a peach, the juice dripping down his jaw, lips sticky. He gulps and forces himself to look down.

And then something hits him, an impulse to ask what’s probably the dumbest question he’s ever asked in his life, but he’s curious about what Klaus is going through.

“What’s it feel like?”

“What does what feel like?”

Diego swallows. “OD’ing.”

Klaus frowns at him, but knowing him well enough, Diego figures it’s not a sign that he’s offended. Klaus clears his throat.

“I mean, don’t get me wrong, being short of breath is always fun,” and Diego thinks back briefly to a couple of years before at the police station, about pushing Klaus against the bricks of that alley and pressing against his throat. He can’t help but take this as a hint (intended or not), and he blushes a little at the thought. “But the whole experience isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be.”

Diego rolls his eyes. “C’mon, be serious.”

“I don’t—really know how to describe it. It’s like a really bad fever; the world looks… warped. Out of focus, like in a dream. Your body feels like it’s made out of lead, too. Depends on what you overdose on, though.”

Diego doesn’t really know what to say. He shouldn’t have asked.

“I’ve had around… three? Four? So I’m no expert.”

“I’d think one is already too many.”

Klaus stays quiet. He looks forward, his mouth opening, and then closing again, like he’d debating whether to let something out. 

He swallows, and doesn’t look at Diego when he says, “I was at home, the first time.” And Diego doesn’t really refer to it as home anymore. Home to him is this dusty backroom in a gym, but Klaus has never known any other home than the one they grew up in.

“What?” He frowns.

Klaus sighs and rubs at his eyes. “Ben helped me through it. It was kind of wrong, but I did use his panic to convince him not to take me to a hospital.” He looks over his shoulder briefly, shrugs at the air – or, most likely, Ben.

“Jesus,” Diego suddenly doesn’t know what to do with his hands, where to fix his eyes. Klaus looks down. Diego just can’t help it; hesitantly, carefully, he brings a hand to Klaus’ shoulder. Klaus leans into it, closes his eyes – and he looks honestly comforted.

“You could’ve told me,” he can’t help but say, if only to get an answer that quells the little bit of guilt he’s feeling right now.

“I got… embarrassed. Didn’t really want you to think of me like that. Ben was in the room, that’s the only reason he knows.”

“And the only reason you’re alive right now.” Klaus’ body starts going a little limp under Diego’s touch. He scoots closer, and Diego’s hand, almost on its own accord, starts slowly making his way over Klaus’ shoulders until he has an arm wrapped around him and Klaus can rest his head against his chest. His hair smells dirty, but Diego wants to run his fingers through it so bad. 

“I guess.” 

Klaus nuzzles against him subtly. Diego sighs, warm, soft, and notices how Klaus’ head rises a little with Diego’s breath – eyes shut, but seemingly comfortable. It’s odd, this kind of closeness with him, not bad-odd, but foreign. Something intense, like strong wind whirls around in his chest. His heart thumps hard and fast and he really hopes Klaus doesn’t notice.

“It was kind of the anniversary today,” Klaus says sudden, quiet. “I got bummed out. I guess I overdid it a little with the commemoration.”

“Ya think?” Diego scoffs.

They stay like that for a moment, silent and listening to their breaths disappearing in to the air. Klaus puts a hand on his chest and sucks in a breath. He finally lifts his head.  
They break apart, and there’s a strange tension that has Diego’s heartstrings next to snapping. There’s something thick between them, an unanswered question.

“Please… be more careful,” Diego says looking at him as honest as he can.

Klaus gives him a sad smile. He inches a little closer, rests his hands behind him, on the bed, to support his weight. “Can’t make any promises, darling.”

“Please, at least promise that—”

“ _Any_ promises,” he says. Diego kind of thinks he’s being overdramatic, but that’s how he is anyway, and so Diego’s just rolling along with the current.

Diego frowns. Their faces are just a tiny bit closer.

“Then don’t promise. Just think—” and then the damn stutter comes back for a brief second. “a-about me next time. Before it happens.”

Klaus gulps. They keep their eyes resting on each other’s faces, neither of them backing down. His lashes flutter beautifully. He coughs, and mutters. “I’ll try.”

Diego fixes him a small smile. He nods. “Thank you.”

And Klaus is so close, right next to him, their legs are barely brushing, but enough that Diego feels a little warmth seeping through. This is the most intimate they’ve been in a long time, or maybe ever, and it makes his guts ache. He thinks, hopes, that Klaus feels it too.

It seems like he does, because Klaus’ hand sneakily moves, crawls toward Diego’s. The tip of their fingers touch and Diego can’t help but shiver. It’s tentative and there’s a quiet understanding that they’re both beginning to reach. 

There’s eye contact, a staring contest that leaves Diego’s throat tight and dry, and Klaus’ hand moves further, finding the back of Diego’s hand. Diego’s frozen, a little terrified, but mostly strangely enticed. Klaus’ hand strokes, and Diego feels it warmer every passing second, same as his own cheeks. Insistently, he leans his face in just so, and Diego can’t help but gasp, but he doesn’t pull back. Klaus finally wraps his palm around Diego’s wrist. He turns it over delicately so it’s facing up, and presses his thumb over it, as if checking Diego’s pulse. He recognizes it as a way for Klaus to get some kind of confirmation, of reciprocity. His eyes close softly and briefly, as he focuses on the heartbeats under his fingers.

It’s a lot, dense in a sweet and wonderful and painful way. He wants nothing more than to take Klaus’ hand and kiss it, kiss all the way up his arm and his shoulders, but he doesn’t even dare move. He doesn’t want to break this, the quiet sort of _magic_ that he feels between them. Klaus keeps getting closer, inch by inch, looks at him so resolute and confident but also open, like he’s lying somewhere in the middle of a forest (a meadow?) waiting for Diego to take him. It’s trust, the thing in his eye, plain and simple. Diego’s touched, and it probably shows on his face, even though he tries to hide it.

Klaus has his mouth slightly open. Diego’s gaze lingers. He’s all flustered and his skin prickles and Klaus is breathing right into his face with those pouty lips, slick with saliva. His eyes are narrow, nearly closed, and their faces are so damn close. Diego wants it, wants _him_ so bad, wants to go across that line, everything else be damned, because the only thing there is right now is Klaus in front of him. He looks like he’s almost pleading, vulnerable, like he’s asking Diego to _please_ let him in. 

Diego clears his throat and turns his face away.

Not the time or the place. Never is. Klaus is just getting back from the hospital and they haven’t seen each other in a couple of years; it feels like the sort of thing they should talk about. And it just doesn’t feel… right. He doesn’t feel ready for it, exciting as it is. And it doesn’t feel right that Klaus just went through this life threatening experience, probably all scrambled up ( _like an egg_ , he remembers vaguely). He knows now, doesn’t doubt it at all, that Klaus does want him. But he’s impulsive, reckless, and he’s not thinking about consequences or about the danger of diving into this particular uncharted territory. Diego feels like, though Klaus might not want to, he should give him the time to think this through. He owes him that much, owes him the chance to act without his impulses getting in the way.

He doesn’t dare look at Klaus. His hand retracts, and he gets up.

“Klaus—”

“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it, _stud_.” He probably added that at the end to lighten up the mood, flirty and with ease. He winks.

He locks himself in the bathroom for a really long time though. Fortunately he doesn’t come out high or drunk, but Diego can’t help the guilt, the feeling of having utterly fucked up.


	5. thirty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i dont write smut but the other day i got sucked into some sort of porn vortex and nearly filled a notepad w it lol. you'll have to wait till next chapter for it though.

It’s finally happened. Daddy has kicked the bucket.

And yeah, Diego is sad, and a little angry, but he also really feels like going dancing. He hasn’t done that in years, but something in him calls for loud noise and bright lights and crowds of sweaty strangers to smother him. Something to numb his senses, drown them out, but something that makes him feel free and inhibited and _happy_ , because as insensitive as it might sound, a weight, a heavy shadow, has been lifted, and it’s reason enough to celebrate.

So he does, puts on way too much cologne and manages to find a shirt that isn’t all black for a change (a death is probably not the best time to suddenly switch colors, but who gives a shit), and goes downtown to some random club that he sometimes drives by. He drinks and dances (if somewhat awkwardly) and flirts with the pretty bartender, trying not to think about the big family reunion earlier that day, which was a mess, as expected. The cherry on top of that entire shitshow was standing there next to Klaus after nearly three years of radio silence.

There was that one time Diego called him to ask how he was, but Klaus was high – big surprise there – and he hung up out of the blue at some point. He didn’t pick up again next time, or the next, or the one after that. Eventually Diego stopped trying. 

They didn’t get any alone time to talk about anything. Diego doubts there’s anything to talk about anymore, though. A part of him has moved on. A part of him has stayed behind. (Though, honestly, he’s terrible at moving on. He’s barely just letting go of Eudora and that was years ago).

Doesn’t matter though, he figures the tension between them – whatever it was – came to its expiration date the day he pulled back in every way possible.

So he tries to have fun tonight, and a little part of him does, but the whole thing keeps running through the back of his mind even under the lights and the noise coming from the speakers.

*

He comes home to find Klaus, bottle of whiskey under one arm – empty, of course – lying against the wooden doorframe.

“Shit.”

He runs toward him, and gets down to his level. “Klaus?” He puts a hand on the back of his head, strokes his curls. As distressed as he is, he speaks softly. “Klaus.”

“Huh?” He opens his eyes sleepily, and there’s the _smile_ , that constant whenever it’s just the two of them. “Hey.”

“You alright?”

“Yeah, yeah,” He waves a hand. “Just tired,” and then he actually _hiccups_. “Didn’t want to wake everyone up.” And that’s the least Klaus thing he’s ever heard. He knows what’s up, though. He’s been feeling that same weird energy or whatever you can call it since he came home. It repels him like a magnet. He doesn’t know what this house means to him anymore. He feels… blurry when he’s in there. Much like how he thinks Klaus looks right now: blurry, out of it, out out and away. He’s not there, not really anywhere, light and floaty. His eyes roam around, unfocused, and every single little movement he makes is uncoordinated. It scares the shit out of Diego.

“Didn’t want to sleep in the house, huh?” Diego asks.

He snorts. “Didn’t even want to walk in.”

He’s taken a little aback by the straight-forward statement. Klaus usually tries to cover up this sort of thing.

“You can’t sleep out here, though.”

“Why not? It’s got a nice view. Pretty roses.”

“What do you need a view for if you’re gonna be asleep?” he points out.

“Pretty dreams?”

Diego sighs, rolls his eyes. “C’mon. Camp is over. Can you walk?”

Klaus slumps down further and shakes his head, eyes blinking heavily.

“I’ll help you up, here,” he put an arm around his waist and tries to pull him up, Klaus makes no effort to stand, it almost feels like he’s making an effort not to. He stumbles and falls down on his ass, laughing.

Diego groans. “Alright, plan B.”

With a huff and some effort, Diego picks him up. He’s picked him up in so many ways over the years, literally and emotionally and from the ground up, but this time seems like the most intimate, pressing him against his chest as he carries him. Klaus lets out a little satisfied noise, rubs his head against Diego’s shirt.

He struggles to push the keys into the lock – should’ve done it before hoisting Klaus up, but he manages eventually. His heart is clenched as he walks up the stairs. This should feel weird, especially after their last encounter, but it’s not. Quite the opposite, like something’s starting to fall into place. Maybe it’s the house, weird energy and all; just being here pushed them back into their respective roles, and Diego’s was always right next to Klaus. Always holding Klaus up when he’s about to fall.

“Hey, really… really don’t wanna,” Klaus starts, but kind of dozes off a little midsentence.

“Don’t wanna what?”

He’s liking having Klaus in his arms a little too much. Unfortunate situation, yeah, but he’s starting to welcome this fuzzy and overwhelming feeling.

“Sleep. In that room.” He mutters. Diego swallows hard.

“We can, uh… sleep in mine.” The ‘we’ gives his stomach a twist. Klaus seems okay – more than okay – with it, though. He hums, which Diego takes as an agreement. He sounds content.

As he walks through the threshold of the room, he says, jokingly: “I feel like I’m carrying my bride on our wedding night.”

Klaus snorts. “You wish.”

Diego laughs too. “She had a little too much at the reception, apparently.”

“Yeah, it’s gonna make the whole _consummation_ thing way harder,” Klaus says. His voice is clearer now, the slur dying down a bit.

He settles Klaus down on the bed. He’s limp, but he looks… more or less okay, almost comfy, honestly.

*

He stays up, reading some book he doesn’t even remember but that’s been collecting dust in his room all these years. It doesn’t really help the insomnia like he had hoped, but at least it’s kind of interesting.

He’s around three chapters in, when he hears a slight movement on the bed. He turns from his place on the desk and watches as Klaus sits up, no longer looking like a ragdoll. He rubs at his eyes.

“Hey.”

“Hey. You sleep alright?”

“Kinda. I still feel drunk.” He brings a hand to his head.

“Yeah, well, it’s only been a couple of hours.” He puts his book down. “You need anything?”

“Some water, maybe.”

And without a word Diego stands up to get him a glass. He’s almost out the door when Klaus calls out to him. He turns around.

“Diego.” 

“Yeah?”

“Can I ask you something?”

Diego frowns. He sounds serious, more than Diego’s used to. Klaus stares at him wide eyed and expectant, so he walks back in and sits on the bed next to him. He feels Klaus’ feet barely brushing his thigh from under the covers.

“Shoot.”

Klaus clears his throat.

“Remember a few years ago, when I overdosed?”

Diego gulps. Here goes. His palms start to sweat. “Yeah…”

“Why did you turn away?”

Diego looks down. He’s not sure how to answer this. He licks his lips and he’s glad that Klaus gives him a second to collect his thoughts.

There’s more curiosity than hurt in Klaus’ face. He’s frowning, but that’s about the only indicator of emotion he gives. Diego looks for the disappointment he knows is there, but Klaus doesn’t let it show.

Diego wonders if the train has passed already, or if they still have a chance. He feels so helpless and stupid.

“I wanted you to have some time.”

Klaus scoffs. “Yeah, and we lost a whole lot of it in the process.” He sounds so certain about how things would’ve gone, how things could be, how things might turn out.

“Yeah, I know. It’s not… That I didn’t want to.” _Not that I didn’t want_ you.

“I know,” the corner of his lips tugs up slightly. “It’s not the first time I thought about it.”

“Me neither.”

Klaus wiggles his feet a little, pushes them under Diego’s thigh. His hand – the one that reads _hello_ \- tentatively goes up to cup Diego’s cheek. He strokes with his thumb, and Diego closes his eyes. And as cheesy as it might be, Diego can’t help but think: _this is what bliss is_.

“I wish you’d had the guts back then.”

“It wasn’t about that—” even though it was, at least a little bit.

“Do you have the guts now?”

Diego hesitates. Does he? But with Klaus close like this, curls sticking to his forehead with sweat, breath warm, biting his beautifully pink lips, he thinks it doesn’t even matter. This was over since Klaus opened his mouth, the question like an arrow straight to the heart. They stay like that, and Diego doesn’t feel like he can open his eyes, Klaus’ fingers scratching at his stubble. He nuzzles into it. His hand goes to Klaus’ leg, running up his hip, his side, pulling up his shirt just a little as it goes along, and Klaus gasps. He reaches Klaus’ neck, and remembers that alley where he pressed his body against a wall, so he softly wraps his hand around his throat. Klaus’ breath hitches.

Diego’s eyes flutter open. Klaus is breathing heavily, hooded eyelids, and batting those pretty, pretty lashes. Diego can’t resist, he presses just a little, and there’s a tiny moan. He breathes out, removes his hand – Klaus whines at that.

“You’re no fun,” he says.

But Diego just chuckles, and slides his hand to the back of his head to grab ahold of his hair. He tugs, very slightly, still experimenting. Klaus whimpers. Gripping tight, he tilts his head to the side, and finally ( _finally!_ ) pulls Klaus towards him.

Klaus sighs into his mouth, with relief or silent pleasure. Diego tries to keep things controlled, doesn’t let himself get too carried away. He wants to take it slow, not let things get out of hand this quick (though, he’d very much like for it to get out of hand in the future). Klaus is insistent, pushes his tongue past Diego’s lips and licks the roof of his mouth, behind his teeth, sucks on his tongue. He pushes and pushes for more, already caught up in it.

Diego laughs breathily. “Easy,” he whispers.

Klaus shakes his head with a smile, and bites, tugs on Diego’s bottom lip. His head is swimming deep, and he puts his free hand on Klaus’ hip. Diego’s fingers still card through his curls, occasionally tugging (particularly when Klaus bites, just painful enough but it’s so fucking sweet, so good). He gives his hip a squeeze. Klaus keeps moaning softly, barely perceptible – Diego wouldn’t even notice it if he couldn’t feel the whimpers against his lips, the quiet hums vibrating through him.

Klaus grabs the hand on his hair and doesn’t stop licking away into Diego’s mouth as he starts guiding him towards his throat again. He presses it around his adam’s apple, the hint really fucking obvious. Even if Diego already guessed Klaus was into this sort of thing, it’s still so new and exciting, _wonderful_ , really, and he wants all of it, wants to try every single thing he can with Klaus, taste every part of his body, mark him and touch him and kiss him, kiss him, kiss him. He doesn’t tighten his grip, though, and he pulls his face away, quick and sudden.

Klaus pants at him. His lips are wet with spit and red and almost raw and Diego loves it, it drives him up the fucking wall, but he’s sober, and Klaus is not, and he clearly has an advantage there. He’s in charge of the situation, and it’s just not fair. The whole thing seems… promising, though. Wide blue skies ahead.

Klaus lunges forward again, trying to clash their mouths together, but Diego stops him with the hand still at his throat. He can’t help but give it a little squeeze, and Klaus breathes hard through his nose.

“Not now,” he whispers before letting his hand fall, brushing its way down Klaus’ chest.

He pouts. God, he’s adorable. “Why?”

“Because you’re high.”

His face goes sour for a second before he gets a resolute look in his eye, and takes Diego’s hand in his. He moves it forcefully towards his crotch and Diego feels like this is some sort of fever dream he can’t wake up from. He bites his lip and looks at Diego somewhat angry, somewhat daring – and a lot turned on. “You really care that much that I’m a fucking junkie?” He asks. There’s little venom in his voice, but it’s there. He presses Diego’s hand against his cock so he’s palming him through his (incredibly) tight pants. He’s half hard already. Diego lets out a little squeak from the back of his throat. He pulls his hand away, against every instinct in his body, against every single impulse, and grabs the back of Klaus’ neck to pull him forward so their foreheads rest together. The only sound is a symphony of heavy, frantic breaths.

“It’s not because you’re a junkie. It’s because you’re not in the right state of mind right now.”

“I know what I want,” the look he gives him leaves Diego breathless.

“I don’t doubt it,” he says, leaning in to give him a little peck on the lips, then whispers against them: “but I’m not doing shit to you until you’re sober.”

He pushes Klaus back with a hand to his chest so they’re not touching anymore. Klaus whines under his breath and looks away, all pouty and flushed and lovely pink cheeks. The air has gone cold, but something sweet still hangs on it. Diego smiles at him, a little taunting. Klaus feigns indignation, but it’s not very effective when Diego can see the bulge in his pants and there’s sweat running down his neck. He wishes he could just grab him right now, push him around, fit their bodies together. But again, he’s a responsible person. He hates himself a little for it right now.

“Ugh.” Klaus falls back onto the mattress. “I stand by it: you’re absolutely no fun.”

Diego laughs softly. “You didn’t seem to think so a second ago.”

“Tease.”

“Yeah, wonder who I learned it from.”

Klaus rolls his eyes. “Fine. But you owe me.”

“I’ll remember,” he says, and after stripping down to his boxers climbs onto the bed. Klaus takes off his pants – he’s wearing a fucking thong, lacey and pink and revealing, not giving a shit about showing off his body to Diego – he has absolutely no shame – and Diego should receive an award for his self control. 

This time, they sleep front to front, arms around each other. Klaus falls asleep quickly, more than tired (and still pretty drunk). Diego stares at him, and sighs before closing his eyes and dozing off.

*

 

It takes a couple of days for Diego to make good on his word, because Klaus is too hangover most of the day and the withdrawal starts hitting in the evening. It kind of breaks his heart to see Klaus fighting it off like this, but he seems like he really, _really_ wants it to work this time.

At some point Klaus actually asks him to _tie him up_ , says he needs Diego to ‘take away his options’, which is something Diego feels he’s heard him say before but definitely hasn’t, and so he ties him up to a chair (he finds the fact that Klaus has that rope stashed away rather… interesting) and Klaus cries and begs and pukes and Diego just sits there next to him through it. He would hold his hand but Klaus keeps thrashing, swearing at him and everything else. He’s shivering, sweating cold, and Diego wants nothing more than to let him loose, but he knows that won’t take away the desperate look on his face or the way his hands twitch.

*

It takes almost an entire day for it to be over, and some hours for Klaus to recover. He carries him a second time and tucks him into bed. Klaus falls asleep almost instantly.

*

Eventually it happens, though, and it’s so good and more than he could’ve hoped for, and afterwards, when they lie on the bed, Klaus looks so wrecked and fucked out and the necklace of bruises Diego left around his throat looks lovely against the pale skin – it’s all beautiful, so beautiful that Diego can’t help but kiss his chin, lick at his jawline (and maybe scrape lightly with his teeth), and Klaus squirms underneath him, grabbing at his biceps.

“Ready to go again? So soon?” He laughs. “Didn’t have that much faith in you.”

“Big mistake,” Diego replies, and manhandles Klaus onto his front, pushing his head into the pillows and starting to suck marks on his shoulders. Klaus squeaks, half surprised and half excited. 

Diego loves this, how he can be this rough with him and all kinds of pretty little sounds will pour like water from Klaus’ lips, all high pitched and desperate. He wants to (will) learn Klaus by heart, how to touch him and what words to say, where to kiss, how to fuck him to have him crying out and pleading.

He’s been told he’s a very fast learner.

“We should get breakfast,” He whispers against Klaus’ skin. The idea, originally, is to get up and make Klaus follow. Leave Klaus like this, squirming and wanting, and throw a knowing look his way across the table (with some of their siblings around, maybe. It’s kind of sick how much he’s into the idea). He wants to watch Klaus completely desperate and unable to do anything about it. He’s teased him enough over the years, now it’s Diego’s turn.

The plan goes to shit though, when Klaus says:

“Why, are you hungry, _daddy?_ ” and Diego has no idea how he manages to make the word ‘hungry’ sound so obscene – the way he pushes his ass back against him is definitely a part of it, though. Embarrassingly enough, what really gets him is the ‘daddy’ at the end. He didn’t think something like that would work for him, but God, it does.

And that’s that. Diego’s just fucking gone.

*

Diego’s trying to calm his pulse before they start their day. He should probably take a shower. They’re both sticky and sweaty. He doesn’t know how good an idea it is to get Klaus in the shower with him – they might spend all day there. Which doesn’t sound bad at all, but they have to talk about the whole _dad just died_ thing with everyone else. Bummer.

“Did you imagine we’d end up here when we were kids?” Klaus asks. Diego feels his voice echoing onto his chest, where Klaus is pressed tight against him, his face buried against Diego’s front. Diego blushes and Klaus is pretty proud of putting that look on his face.

“Not really. You always did look really hot in skirts, though. Not gonna deny that I looked.”

He hums, runs a hand through Diego’s hair. 

“That might’ve been kind of the idea.”

Diego chuckles.

“Did you just look? Didn’t you save the memory for _later_?”

“Maybe.”

“Did you want to take care of me, brother dear?” Diego chokes a little at that. Klaus snickers. “It was good to have someone to tease growing up.”

Diego pinches his shoulder, because he’s petty like that.

“I wonder what dear ol’ dad would’ve thought about it.”

Diego looks down at Klaus, amused. “Does us being brothers turn you on or what’s happening here?”

Klaus laughs. “You have to admit, it’s a least _a little_ hot.”

“You’re a sick fuck,” Diego says before he can stop himself, but there’s laughter in his voice and Klaus laughs along with him. “I love it.”

“I bet you do, _broyfriend_.”

He smacks him in the ass. Klaus yelps. Diego smiles, satisfied.


	6. 30 (Klaus' turn)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's The Porn as promised. hav fun

Diego’s been sitting at the bar for barely ten minutes, taking the first sip of his beer, when a hand warmly lands on his shoulder. He jumps.  


“Shit, Klaus, you scared me,” he says. There’s an odd look on Klaus’ face, though, eyes narrowed and a slight smile but something seems off. “How’d you even know I was here?” He looks around. He’d told Klaus he’d be going out for a drink. He didn’t specify the place which is… a little creepy, honestly. Not that he minds, but it kind of is.

“I think you’re confusing me with someone else,” he says, and what the _fuck_ is that tone? “Mind if i sit?” He asks, and without waiting for an answer casually slides onto the stool next to Diego. He rests his weight on his elbow against the bar.

Diego frowns.

“Why are you being weird?” he pauses. “Klaus… are you high?” Diego asks because he _has_ to ask - he can’t help but get a little paranoid whenever he notices Klaus acting strange. He expects a flinch, a glare at least, but Klaus just rolls his eyes and leans into him.

“Again, not _Klaus_ ,” and he says it in an almost forceful way, fixing Diego a defiant look. “Just thought you might want some company.”

Diego’s brow furrows and Klaus doesn’t stop staring him down. “I don’t--”

Klaus interrupts him by running his fingers softly up his exposed arm with a raised eyebrow.

Oh.

_Oh._

Diego tries hard not to smile. So, alright, they’re doing this. Apparently.

“Uh,” he clears his throat. “Sorry. Thought I’d seen you before.”

Klaus smirks. He looks even _proud_ that Diego got the hint, and Diego flushes a little.

“That’s alright.” He pauses, licks his lips and leans in close. “Are you buying me a drink or what?”

Diego kind of wants to laugh because it’s the most forward, demanding, aggressive way anyone’s ever flirted with him before. It’s also probably the hottest.

He motions at the bartender. “Could I get another beer for the gentleman here?”

“Make it a whiskey. Rocks.” Klaus says.

Diego can’t help the little glare he gives Klaus. As the bartender turns he raises his index finger and mouths _‘one’_ , not giving a shit about breaking character. Klaus rolls his eyes but doesn’t argue. He’s been off the hard stuff for a couple of months now, and he doesn’t drink much anymore, but Diego still tries to keep it to a minimum.

He clears his throat when he notices Klaus - fully committed to his performance, if the way he keeps twirling his right earring between his fingers and the way his eyes won’t leave Diego’s mouth are any indication - watching him expectantly, as if saying _you’re up_.

He’s a little nervous. He hasn’t done this kind of thing before, but then again there’s a _lot_ he hadn’t done before Klaus. He figures it’s trial and error just like everything else. He takes a long swing of his beer.

“… What’s your name, sweetheart?” Which is as awkward a pickup line as Diego’s ever heard, but a) Klaus knows this isn’t really his strong suit so hopefully he’ll appreciate the effort, and b) he knows for a fact that despite how indifferent he always tries to act about it, little pet names like _sweetheart_ , _honey_ , _baby_ are a bit of a weak-spot for Klaus.

Klaus smiles at him warmly. “I’m Chris.” He holds out his hand, palm facing down, and Diego brings it up to his lips, maintaining eye contact as he kisses his knuckles. “You?”

He draws a blank there for a second. He looks around quickly as though he can find the answer written somewhere. “Uh…”

Klaus starts looking a little impatient.

“Luke,” he says, stupidly and quickly, because the only thing he manages to conjure up in his mind is Star Wars. If he’d said Hann Klaus would’ve probably caught on to it.

He seems pleased with the response, though. He hums as he gets his drink and makes damn sure to lick his lips after the first sip.

Diego swallows hard, breathes in, counts to three.

Breathes out.

“So, what’s a pretty thing like you doing alone on a saturday night?” Diego asks, looking at Klaus from the corner of his eye. He manages to make his voice sound low and smooth and not at all dorky the way he’s feeling right now. Klaus turns to face him, the corner of his lip tugged up. He shrugs. Every single one of his movements seems both extremely calculated but casual and natural at the same time. It’s kind of amazing to watch how he can flirt with his entire body, the way he looks shamelessly at Diego’s lips, the way he leans into him without making it too obvious and how he rubs his foot up Diego’s calf with such boldness and ease that it’s hard to believe he’d act this way around a stranger.

Except he definitely would, which makes something in Diego’s chest ache.

Klaus examines his nails, feigning some kind of vague disinterest. “Oh, my boyfriend went out for a drink. Left me all alone.”

“He did, huh?” Klaus nods. “Well, good thing you found your way here, then. Wouldn’t want you to spend the night all by yourself.”

“Good thing I found _you_ here, too,” Klaus sighs dramatically. “I don’t know what I would’ve done in that big house with no one to _take care_ of me.”

“Oh?” Is all he can manage for the moment. The pace of this conversation is too fast right now and he finds himself running to catch up.

“I have to admit, seeing the same faces and meeting the same people does get kind of old.”

“Sounds like you could use a change of scenery,” and, okay, yes, we’re back on track.

Klaus chuckles. “Maybe.”

“Consider this a trial run.”

“No strings attached?”

Diego grins. “None whatsoever.”

“Good, because I’m kind of liking the view.”

He chuckles. “Oh, _baby_ , you ain’t seen nothing yet.”

“Oh really?” He tilts his head in the most adorable way. “Any chance I could get a peek?”

Diego pretends to think about it. “Maybe, if you’re _good_.”

Klaus visibly flushes at that. Diego bites the inside of his cheek to keep the full blown out smile that’s threatening to bloom on his face. Klaus isn’t willing to lose that easy, though. He gives him an offended scoff.

“That’s really bold of you.”

“I figured, why beat around the bush?” He leans in close, and whispers right into Klaus’ ear: “And I’d really, _really_ like you to be good for me, _Chris_.”  
Klaus shivers, and so Diego doesn’t give him time to recover and strikes. He takes Klaus’ chin between his thumb and index finger and kisses him shallow, but slow and sensual enough to have them both burning.

“Bathroom. Five minutes,” Diego whispers against his lips, and doesn’t turn back once he’s on his way to the bathroom, completely missing Klaus’ reaction.

*

Klaus walks into the men’s room significantly less than 5 minutes later. There’s a smile on his face that Diego would almost call coy, but Klaus is _never_ coy. Maybe Charlie is, though.

 

Diego looks at him hungrily. He’s really into this, wants to know how it would feel like to retrace Klaus’ body and learn it anew for the night. This is something they never got to have; the _getting to know you_ and casual flirting, the discovery of this thing that’s shiny and new, every texture and taste and sound ready to be explored.

Klaus closes the door behind him. He starts making his way toward a stall, but Diego pulls him back roughly by the wrist. He gasps. Diego wraps an arm around his waist and tugs him closer. He pulls down Klaus’ collar to bite where his shoulder meets his neck, loving the little moan that slips from his lips.

He guides them back until Klaus’ back hits the sinks, Diego still licking and kissing at his throat, leaving a couple of bruises on his way. He flips Klaus around forcefully (Klaus squeaks and Diego can’t help but feel like he’s _winning_ this time) and pushes between his shoulder blades so he’s bending over. He sneaks a hand between them and runs it up between Klaus’ thighs up his skirt. Klaus shivers under him. He lowers his head, but Diego’s having none of it. He pulls Klaus’ hair and makes him look forward.

“I want you to watch,” he says, trying to sound as commanding as he can. He catches Klaus’ eye in the mirror and holds his gaze. Klaus is blushing so hard, so pretty. His eyes are almost closed, so Diego pulls harder and Klaus hisses, but he has his full attention now. “I want you to see your pretty face as i fucking _ruin_ you.”

He doesn’t let go of his hair, but keeps stroking at Klaus’ inner thighs, moving up until he’s groping his ass. Klaus pushes back into it, and Diego chuckles. He pulls his hand back a little to pull his skirt up, exposing Klaus’ lingerie. He presses flush against Klaus, his ass right against Diego’s clothed cock. He gives a little thrust, experimenting.

“Fuck, Diego,” Klaus pants. Diego stills instantly, pulls on Klaus’ scalp harder.

“What did you just call me?”

“I-- sorry, what was your name again?” Klaus smiles.

He tugs harder, thrusts again. “You know my name.”

Klaus suddenly smiles, taunting him. It makes Diego seethe. “Sorry, can’t remember”

“Say it.”

He lets go of Klaus’ hair, and Klaus sighs in relief. He uses that hand to grip Klaus’ hips and pulls him further back. He raises his hand and slaps Klaus’ ass, hard, the satisfying sound echoing through the bathroom. Klaus yelps.

“ _Say it, bitch_ ” He whispers. He freezes for a second, about to apologize. It might’ve been taking it too far. He’s never treated Klaus quite like this before, and he doubts he’d try it with a stranger, but this little game’s got him feeling like suddenly it’s open season - the false promise of _no strings attached_ , of things staying in the here and now, but also the fact that there’s already trust between them, fills him with a weird (kind of perverted) courage, an opportunity to test things he’d thought about before but that at this point had remained purely theoretical.

He’s starting to regret it, when Klaus lets out the most exquisite little moan. He tugs on Klaus’ underwear and enjoys the sound of it snapping back against Klaus’ skin.

“Well?”

“Luke,” he says breathily, his voice high. Diego gets close again and pushes forward, rolling his hips against Klaus’ ass. Klaus is moaning, panting, can’t stop repeating “ _Luke, Luke, I’m sorry, fuck, Luke, I’m so sorry, please--_ ”

His eyes fall closed, so Diego grips his jaw and forces his head up so he’s face to face with himself again. 

He doesn’t know where this attitude is coming from, but it seems to be working like a charm, so he keeps going. “How often do you do this, Chris? Need to get fucked so bad you’ll pick just anyone in some bar?”

Klaus nods. “Yes, need it really bad.” He’s pushing back, meeting Diego’s thrust after thrust and moaning desperately every time, his hands gripping tight at the edge of the ceramic.

“What a little slut,” He whispers close to his ear. He sneaks the hand on Klaus’ hip up into his shirt and rubs circles around his right nipple before pinching it. Klaus’ voice is going so fucking high pitched, Diego feels like he could come just from the sound of it. “After this you’re not gonna want anyone else to fuck you.”

Their grinding grows more and more erratic, both of them staring into the mirror. The sight of Klaus like this, desperate and whining and half-ashamed of having to look at his own face during the whole thing is too much.

So much, that he hooks his fingers on Klaus’ waistband and pulls his underwear down until it’s pooling at his ankles. He puts his fingers over Klaus’ lips.

“Suck,” he orders (because at this point he’s just straight up ordering Klaus around. Which isn’t exactly new, but it’s not usually this forceful).

Klaus obeys, and Diego, without ceremony, pushes a finger in. Klaus’ drawn out moan is so loud Diego’s worried the entire bar can hear them.

“Shh,” he says, pushing in deeper. “Wouldn’t want me to have to _shut you up_.”

Klaus, of course, takes it as a challenge. As Diego pulls back and then thrusts back in, he lets out the most obscene, loudest whine he can muster. A part of Diego _is_ worried about people noticing, or someone walking in, but Klaus is squirming and panting and he looks so good like this, and he’s not about to let this go to waste.

“I told you,” Diego says while sneaking a hand over Klaus’ throat, “to _shut up_.”

He presses. He never gets tired of hearing Klaus choking on little whimpers as he gets fucked, trying to gasp for air and thrusting back desperately into Diego’s fingers or cock.

He adds a second finger, loosening his grip on Klaus neck a little, just in case because he doesn’t want to get too carried away with _that_ in particular. He pushes in to his knuckles and Klaus is fucking losing it. He’s gasping and grinding against the sinks and Diego swears there’s tears about to fall from his eyes.

“Fuck, fuck, _fuck_ , I’m gonna--”

The door slams open.

“You two,” the guard says, voice deep and menacing. “Out.”

Diego freezes. He meets Klaus’ wide eyes on the mirror.

He doesn’t even leave while they fix their clothes up. Diego clears his throat and looks down as he walks past.

“This ain’t a fucking motel,” the man says. The worst part is having to walk through the bar to get to the door, with almost everyone throwing either a disgusted or a knowing look their way. Klaus trails behind him, and a quick glance lets Diego know that his legs are shaking still.

Once outside, he and Klaus look at each other for a long second. God, he’s beyond mortified, face red and fists clenched.

Klaus bursts out laughing. “Oh my fucking God.”

“It’s not funny, Klaus.”

Klaus - still laughing, the asshole - comes close and wraps his arms around Diego. “C’mon. The night is young, we just need to find somewhere more _private_.”

Diego snorts. Yeah, he guesses it’s not the end of the world. And going somewhere - namely, his room, where he can do whatever he wants to Klaus without worrying that someone will walk in any second - is a little urgent right now. Getting caught had the opposite effect on his boner that he thought it would. He shifts uncomfortably. “Let’s call a cab.”

Klaus beams.

As they wait, Klaus arm is still around Diego’s waist. “I finally got to be the one to pick you up, huh?” he says.

Diego snickers. “About time you returned the favor. Though, coming to think of it, it was _me_ who paid for the drinks.”

“Oh, right. Well, next time they’re on me, _Luke_.”

Diego’s eyes go wide. “ _Next time?_ "

**Author's Note:**

> ty 4 reading!!


End file.
